


All Dens Need Padding

by 1Ginger1Keyboard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Peter Hale Deserves Nice Things, Peter Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale Needs a Hug, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Peter Hale is a Softie, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sassy Peter Hale, Secret Crush, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Stiles Stilinski Has Nightmares, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, Stiles Stilinski's Name is Mieczysław, stealing clothes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26358796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Ginger1Keyboard/pseuds/1Ginger1Keyboard
Summary: After the Nogitsune is forced from Stiles body his mind can't settle, the pain and suffering. Stiles finds something that grounds him, a way to handle it all, unfortunately, it means stealing Zombie Wolf's clothes.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 35
Kudos: 286





	1. Catching a Minx

It was strange the first time it happened, Peter had taken his shirt off and jumped in the shower. Peter had left his bedroom door open but hadn’t expected Derek to have grabbed his clothes for the wash so quickly. But when he went down to get it from the hamper it wasn’t there. 

Peter let it pass, assuming he was having a blank moment, he’d been having them since he came back from the dead. He was slowly making process with the blank periods, he just let it pass, he would find it another time. He had enough t-shirts. 

It was a few weeks after that, he’d left his jumper downstairs within the loft while the pack meeting was taking place. He had gone down after they had left to retrieve the jumper, only, it wasn’t sat where he had left it. Searching around the room, but it was gone. 

It was an additional few weeks before Peter found where most of his clothes had been going. It was when he came out of the shower to find Stiles’ stood in his room, backpack open putting the low cut t-shirt within. Stiles’ eyes wide, mouth hung open. Stiles’s eyes following the droplets of water as they ran down the happy trail. 

“Well isn’t this a turn in events.” 

Peter crowded the teen, Stiles’ knees hit the bed and he felt onto the plump mattress. Stiles was still gripping the rucksack. Peters fingers taking Stiles’ chin, examining him carefully. 

“Are you the little thief? The Minx responsible for my missing clothes...”

Stiles’ heart hammered within his chest, he swallowed and nodded. Peter smirked. Pushing Stiles’ head causing him to lay down and Peter positioned himself on Stiles’ lap and taking the rucksack. 

Peter discovered among his school books the pair of socks he had taken off ten minutes ago as well as his shirt. 

Peter stood, it pulled a whine from Stiles’ throat. Stiles’ sitting up to watch as Peter dropped the rucksack next to his feet and returned to the bathroom, leaving the door open dropping the towel. Stood at the sink he wiped his hand across the mirror to remove the condensation and began neatening his beard. 

Stiles’ had got home and showered, his heart only just stopped pounding. Opening the rucksack to get his school books and at the very top, waiting for him the boxers that had been on Peter’s bedroom floor. 

Stiles’ didn’t get any homework done that night.

It wasn’t Stiles’ fault, he wasn’t sure where it all started. But after the Void left him, after he was back to himself, he could smell things. Things he couldn’t smell before. And it was Peter, the smell of him, it soothed this cold ache within his chest. The feeling would only last so long, and he was craving it. His clothes helped, the smell clung to them, he laid with them on a night and for a while, he felt safe and warm. But the smell began to fade after a few days, and he would cycle his stash. 

He’d always try and drop off more clothes then he stole. He’d sneak three t-shirts into the wash hamper, then take a dirty one of Peter’s. 

This was the first time Stiles had underwear, and Peter gave it them to him. That night Stiles’ found himself rubbed raw just smelling them from within the bag, he couldn’t stop. The safety was suffocating and he loved it. He wanted more. 

His last act of the night was to wear them before he drifted off to sleep. The next morning he rubbed himself within them mixing there smells.


	2. All games have a starting point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are strange creatures.

Stiles washed the boxers before putting them in the wash at the loft, by the time Peter got them he wouldn’t be able to tell what had happened in them. That was how the game was started, the rules not yet completely clear but they were feeling there way around this new dynamic. 

Some days Stiles was brave, he’d just waltz into Peter’s bedroom straight after him, pick up his shirt and go through his laundry basket, even if the older man wasn’t even in the bathroom yet. But other days, Stiles couldn’t look at Peter, couldn’t be in the same room without having a panic attack. He would sneak, wait until he was sure Peter was showering, pick an item and hurry off. Peter let him, the little Minx had caught Peter’s attention, he enjoyed that. It was definitely refreshing.

Stiles had seemed to be in a good mood today, for a change he allowed someone else to bring the snacks for the group. Stiles was strangely protective over food, this was the first time he hadn’t brought himself a pack up, he was going to eat the food Erica’s parents had brought for them. 

It was while they were mid discussion, Stiles had just eaten something and he began to cough. Scott was completely calm just looking at him strangely. Stiles was undoing his bag and rummaging through it. He continued to cough. 

Derek had stopped taking and looking at Stiles strangely. Brows raised, Stiles continued to cough, smacking Scott’s leg. His hand around his own throat. Scott suddenly jumped into action. 

“Stiles, are you choking?”

Stiles was leant forward hitting the floor on his knees and continuing to cough. Stiles smacked his own chest with his fist and brought up two mouthfuls of vomit. Scott had picked up his rucksack, tipped it and shaking out the content. He began rummaging through everything. 

“Call an ambulance. Call one now!”

Scott rarely yelled, didn’t even raise his voice, but he was screaming at Derek. His eyes flashing red, he has stressed it rolled off him in waves. 

“Where is it Stiles?! Where did you put it?”

Derek was phoning an ambulance, Peter not knowing what to do was smacking Stiles on the back. The pack witnessed Scott push Peter out the way, knock Stiles over, push his legs open, pull the end of a large pen looking implement. Bring it down sharp and hard against Stiles’ inner thigh. Holding it down hard before pulling it back after ten seconds, tossing it to the side. 

Scott grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him and placing the males had on the site he had just stabbed Stiles in. 

“Rub it, rub it hard!”

Peter not knowing what else to do did as he was told. Rubbing hard against the area. A small speck of blood against the jeans, Stiles seemed to be able to breathe a little easier. Scott was at Stiles’ head. Opening his mouth and checking inside. 

“Stiles, buddy you with me?” 

Scott moved his ear over Stiles’ mouth, a panic crossing his face.

“Derek! He’s unconscious, they need to get here quickly.” 

Scott moved next to Stiles’ chest, he began compressions, Scott was chanting as he did compressions. Isaac looked panicked, looking at Derek. 

“What’s happened? His heart is beating, I can hear it.”

Scott pinched Stiles’ nose sealing his lips and blowing, Stiles’ chest barely moved, Scott gave another breath. Then starting to compress again, tears he didn’t know had begun to form, started rolling down his face. 

“Its like anaphylaxis shock! It happened after it left his body. He’s breathing strange, strange breathing means no breathing...”

Derek listened to the person on the end of the phone tell them that the ambulance was five minutes off due to traffic and they needed to continue CPR, she was yelling down the phone to continue CPR, she was making sure they didn’t stop. 

Scott sobbed as he tried to blow into Stiles’ mouth, his hands shaking too much, his claws starting to poke through. Peter’s hand coming over, pinching Stiles’ nose, doing the breaths, then beginning the compressions. Scott laid back in the floor and started to cry, let himself sob. Stiles was breathing less and less. 

Peter was four rounds in and Derek was about to take over when a banging on the doors caused Scott to dart over, it was paramedics, an oxygen mask going over Stiles’ face. Peter left doing compressions. They have an IV line going into him, getting Isaac who had started to freak out to hold. Then added something that smelt to the wolves like artificial rain. Within minutes Stiles took the largest breath ever heard. The paramedic pulling Peter back, sweat was nearly dropping off him. Wiping his brow. 

Stiles’ ambulance was followed by the Jeep, Derek’s Camera and Peter’s Telsa. No one wanted to be the one to call the Sheriff and tell him Stiles’ had an Idiopathic anaphylactic shock. But someone had to, Peter took the phone from Scott, taking a deep breath and pressing the call button. 

Stiles was kept in the hospital for 72 hours in case he had a secondary reaction. It had all happened after the Nogitsune, the first time it happened it was a new anti-depressant they had put him on. Then he started reacting strangely to the soap he had been using for the past ten years, after weeks for the strange reactions they went to Deaton. The Nogitsune had changed how Stiles’ body was working, it could revert with time, or he might be permanently different, but the reactions would grow less serious. 

When Stiles was finally released and got home, when he was within the safety of his own home, he was lead to his room by the smell of sandalwood and a familiar wash detergent. Folded on his cushion was a low cut t-shirt, a note folded on his side table, he knew it was before even checking. The note was clear. 

‘I know what you did in my boxers.’


	3. Stiles the Minx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is learning how Peter's game works, but that doesn't mean that Stiles isn't learning a few things about Peter on the way.

Peter’s shirt was Stiles’ sleep top for four nights. Stiles’ was typing at his laptop, he didn’t hear his window open and Peter was stood in his bedroom. His window closed again, Peter’s nose rubbing against Stiles’ neck. 

“You smell delicious...” Peter’s voice was deep and heavy, causing the hairs on Stiles’ neck stand up, his cock twitch and he sits up straight. Peter licked Stiles’ neck, taking in the heavy scent, the heady mix of hormones and chemicals from his medication. 

“Stiles you don’t half look tasty in that shirt, you have managed to keep that hidden for me...you deserve a reward...” The desk chair spun, Stiles’ boxers shredded by the claws Peter sprouts.

Stiles was able to tell that Peter must have done this before, the way he lapped at the head Stiles’ cut cock. Then swallowing Stiles’ down as if he was a starving man, hollowing his cheeks. Peter’s nose was pressed into the bundle of hair that nested around Stiles’ cock. 

Stiles’ hips were held down, Peter dragging himself along the length. When Stiles tugged at Peter’s hair crying out that he was going to cum, Peter growled and pinned the teen harder, forcing himself as far down at he could. Swallowing everything the teen would give him, when the wolf looked up at the pale teen Stiles’ was relaxed, tears clinging to his lashes, panting with plump lips. 

Growling he snagged the teen’s lips, licking into the teen’s mouth tugging him off the desk chair and into his lap. Grinding up and at the teen. Nipping Stiles’ lips, licking into the teen’s mouth before pulling back and burying his head in the teen’s neck, growling and ghosting sharp fangs over his pulse point, Peter rutted harshly against Stiles’ ass before he groaned. 

Stiles could feel Peter’s cock twitch in his trousers, he had just cummed from dry humping. Stiles decided to store that information away for another time. He was panting and sweaty against the man under him. 

“Every time you steal some of my clothes and add them to your den and I can’t find it, you get a reward, every time I find it, I get a reward...I plan on having you as my reward, you are a minx.”

Stiles only pulled together a plan after rubbing one out on his desk chair thinking about Peter’s lips around him. Peter definitely had skills, that wasn’t his first time, good to know. He started the plan of how it would work, it was all about timing. 

Stiles’ was playing his role of pack mother while listening to Scott ramble on about the newest monster, Stiles was doing the laundry, putting it into colour piles, then emptying the machine and starting to put the whites in. it was during this that they had learnt Stiles was quite good at getting blood out of clothes. 

The wet washing was then hung neatly on an airing rack, any shirts were hung on a hanger to reduce the amount of ironing. While Stiles’ busied himself he recognised a pair of Peter’s boxers, taking the dry clothes and folding them, stuffing the clean dry boxers in the pouch of his hoodie. Peter was far to invested in his book, then finished folding the dry laundry. By the end of the meeting, Stiles had managed to half the laundry pile got blood out of Derek’s favourite Henley and had started sorting out what needed ironing and what didn’t. 

Stiles spent the next three hours in his desk chair watching the window with his heart pounding, what if Peter knew, what if he was coming to get them. A few breathing exercises lead to him being able to sleep that night. 

It was two weeks before Stiles found Peter in the back of his Jeep, searching through the rubbish and spare clothes. Stiles stood peering into the Jeep from the open door. He cleared his throat, that startled Peter who was clearly far too devoted to the search. He knocked his head against the top of the Jeep before hissing out.

“Shit.”

His eyes cast to Stiles who was watching him with a strange expression on his face. Peter climbed out of the Jeep through the open door. Spinning Stiles and crowding his space, pushed Stiles into the seat and pushing himself between the teen’s knees. Peter’s head into the teen’s neck. 

“I know you stole my boxers, Calvin Klein, black with a white band...I’ve searched your bedroom, searched your Jeep...you, little minx, are clever...”

Peter gave Stiles a hot lick up his neck before turning and walking away. He disappeared between the cars and into the treeline. Stiles’ now had an erection he had to deal with before he could go to therapy. 

It was additional three days before Stiles’ saw glowing blue eyes through his shower curtain, nearly throwing his shampoo bottle at the figure stood in his bathroom, a familiar hand reached around the curtain, pulling it back a few inches before Peter appeared, a cocky smirk on his face. Hooked on his thumb was the stolen pair of boxers. 

Water was splashing out of the tub as Peter stepped in, pulling the curtain shut after himself. Stiles’ brain was stuttering, the boxers dropped into the bottom of the tub. Whimpering for a moment as Peter crowded him against the cold tiles, pressing himself against the teen and stealing his lips, licking at his mouth, hands gripping the teen’s waist. Peter’s cock went from completely flaccid to full attention within the blink of an eye. 

More evidence to Stiles’ therapy, Peter grin when Stiles hit the cold tiles. Lapping at the teen’s neck, nuzzling the pulse point, the whimper Peter let out had nearly been drowned out by the spray of water and the pounding in Stiles’ ears. Peter rutted against Stiles’ abs four times before shooting hotlines up his chest. Peter was panting, pressing himself forehead to forehead with Stiles. 

Water splashed across both of there faces, but Stiles’ suspected Peter had let a few tears ago as he came, but he didn’t get time to take in the detail. Next thing he knew he was turned around and bent over, Peter’s tongue licked at his hole, a fast hand stroking his cock, Peter’s remaining hand holding Stiles’ hip to keep him from tumbling over. 

Stiles was proud of the fact he lasted longer than ten seconds, he wasn’t sure how long he lasted but the orgasm made white cloud his vision. He was guided to sit down, when he had his vision back he was alone in the shower, the wet boxers that should be in the bottom of the tub gone as well. The only evidence Peter had ever been in the room was that his towel was wet and a few wet footprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hoped you enjoyed reading this piece. Don't be afraid to comment any criticism or anything you think should be added to really make it pop.  
> If you have any requests please feel free to add them to this [Google Docs](https://docs.google.com/document/d/19RBvC3pfNVRVeFUYyhmiyF0S6sl4Gfy-07DbsypupxE/edit?usp=sharing) with your name and I will happily get to writing it!  
> 


	4. Scent isn't just a smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one wanted a constant post length.

It was a Pack night when it happened, the feeling of a cold breeze across the base of his neck, a tingle under his skin and Stiles throw himself over the back of the sofa, he was screaming, scratching at his chest and ripping his shirt. Scott was next to him, grabbing his wrists, he’d scratched at the skin and made himself bleed. Scott struggling to keep Stiles from hurting himself. 

“It’s in me! I can feel it under my skin!” Stiles was screaming into the air, kicking his bare feet in Scott’s direction trying to free himself, the person holding him wasn’t Scott, no, it was a figure covered in bandages, a military jacket, it was Void. 

Stiles started screaming again, kicking at Scott until his hands were released. Then turning to scrabble away, Derek stood in his path, bandages slowly tangling around his throat and choking him. The thin cloth spewing out of his mouth as he gasps for breath. Then Void grabbed him, hauling him close to his chest and started squeezing him, he kicked and punched trying to free himself. 

His vision was blacking out, his was scratching at Void’s face trying to push it away from him. But the bandages give way and it’s Peter, his face is bleeding and Stiles looks around and his friends are around him, staring at him confused. He looks down at a pair of hands that don’t feel like they belong to him. They have blood under the nails and his fingertips are covered in the red liquid. 

Peter gets out a quiet rumble from his chest and Stiles looks at the man who is holding him, the scratches are starting to heal. Stiles did that, he hurt Peter, scratched at his face, but the scratches knit shut and Peter pushed Stiles head into his neck and rests his head on top, rocking him gently as the others settle to watch. Only after Stiles heartbeat returns to the regular erratic beat they have always known it for do those Peter release him, letting him sit on the floor in front of him. 

“How did you know?” Stiles’ head was bowed, he was sorting his thoughts into easy to manage categories, anything to keep him calm. 

“Laura used to have night terrors, she would scream about monsters in her doorway that was going to kill us, my room was next to hers...it used to calm her down enough to get some sense from her...it would help her settle before she would climb into bed with Talia.” 

Derek’s face hardened as if he remembered it but the memory had only just come to light. The thought of Peter doing such a tender act, helping a small child, it was so soft, Stiles’ heartfelt soft, like it was going to burst. Peter hauled Stiles onto a sofa, dragging Derek by the front of his shirt to sit next to him, then yanking Scott up and pushing him onto the sofa. 

“You...” Peter pointing at Derek. “Are going to start teaching your pack how to be a pack, Stiles doesn’t smell like Pack, you teach Scott how to scent.” Peter yanked his jumper off, tossing it at Stiles before disappearing up the stairs.

It was early the next morning, roughly around four-thirty, his father was doing a through the night and was due to finish at around ten am. Peter, slid open the window and sat on Stiles’ desk chair, the window was cracked open. Peter liked being able to smell the outside, sometimes he felt like disinfectant was clogging his lungs if he couldn’t smell the fresh air. He could smell the electric in the air, a storm was coming. 

Stiles woke at around five am, he could feel the presence of someone in the room with him. He sat up slowly, glancing around slowly, leant back in the desk chair was Peter Hale, mouth hanging open and snoring softly. The printer next to him pushing out page after page. 

Stiles wriggled his feet against the carpet, slowly pushing himself up and towards the desk. Tipping the screen of the laptop back and examining the page, it was about the use of therapy dogs helping with trauma. Then moving around and picking up the pile of papers, it seemed that Peter had been printing for a while, the start of a pile on the desk. He had been doing some research on a supernatural creature, some humanoid with two extra arms and a disturbing mouth. 

Stiles tried to wake peter but he grumbled and complained about five more minutes, it ended with Stiles walking Peter over to his bed, dragging his shoes off and dumping them on the floor, swaddling the wolf in a thin blanket before curling behind the wolf, using Peter as a barrier. Stiles was wedged between the wall and Peter. Sleep soon found him. 

It was later that day, Peter and Stiles awoke at the same time, staring at each other. The sound of someone clearing their throat. Both sitting up, Peter wiggling helplessly, practically falling onto Stiles. 

“Do I want to know?” Noah watched the two critically, Peter was wiggling helplessly within the confines of his blanket, he didn’t seem able to free himself. Stiles was tugging at a corner, the blanket unwrapped itself revealing Peter Hale fully dressed. 

“I don’t even know...” Peter snarked back, tugging the blanket fully off himself and standing up, looking around. Finally, he tugged a pair of boots from under Stiles’ bed, sitting down on the desk chair. 

Noah waved a hand before disappearing into another room down the hall, Stiles was looking a bit sheepish. “Are you mad?” Peter whipped his head around, Stiles was talking to him. “Well darling, it wasn’t exactly how I imagined being in bed with you...” Peter tugged his right boot on, picking up the stack of paper. 

Stiles laid back as he watched Peter disappear out of the window, snuggling into the sheets, he felt something soft against his leg. Whipping the cover back, crumpled near his foot sat the jumper Peter had been wearing the previous night.

**Author's Note:**

> Really hoped you enjoyed reading this piece. Don't be afraid to comment any criticism or anything you think should be added to really make it pop.  
> If you have any requests please feel free to add them to this [Google Docs](https://docs.google.com/document/d/19RBvC3pfNVRVeFUYyhmiyF0S6sl4Gfy-07DbsypupxE/edit?usp=sharing) with your name and I will happily get to writing it!  
> 


End file.
